by Neil Mach
Once she’d swung both of her knobbly knees over the rickety fence and had shown him a good proportion of her panties, she was helped down by Moondog. He was like a father taking a toddler from a playground swing. He put both hands under her warm armpits and lifted her down gently and sympathetically. She felt ashamed, to be honest.
Once on the ground, she stood in front of him, and he breathed onto her forehead. She looked into his eyes to check what they’d do next. Maybe he’d kiss her on the lips for being a brave girl? But no, his gaze was elsewhere — he actively scanned the scene and scrutinized the situation. It seemed they had moved from one enclosed yard to another. There was no obvious exit.
‘This way...’ Moondog said assertively. He took her hand again. In one corner of the yard was a metal dustbin. ‘You first...’ Moondog helped her stagger onto the container. The lid bent under her weight, which was a bit embarrassing. ‘Thought so...’ Moondog whispered, perhaps to himself. ‘Now, up and over, just like before.’ He held her steady as she balanced her knees on the top of the fence. Then she half-slid, half-fell, onto the soft ground the other side.
She waited by the fence and inspected her legs. Her tights had laddered, she had a graze along her shin, and she felt bruises on her upper thighs. She heard a massive clatter as Moondog swung over the fence and came down with a crash. He crouched as action-men war films do. Moondog looked alert and geared up for action. He dabbed a sweat drop from his forehead and kept a low profile. Now she felt like a daft bimbo, standing in high heels, for all the world to see, worrying about nylons and broken nails. Meanwhile, he looked rugged and soldierly. She was just about to say something along the lines of: ‘I didn’t know we’d be doing an army assault course today, otherwise; I’d have worn gym-kit...’ But before she could say anything at all, Moondog grabbed her and said, ‘This way...’
‘Scheissen!’ she cursed under her breath. Running? Why did I wear heels?
He led her across a patchy field then up a slope and eventually to the edge of a stone wall. Finally, they stopped at a hefty old arch, and she realized they were on Castle Hill. They overlooked the town. She panted as she appreciated how far they’d come.
Hopie glanced at her watch and saw only twenty minutes remained of her lunch break. Did she have time to get back to the nick? Then she took her first proper look at Moondog. He’d prepared for all this activity by taking his nose-ring out and dressing appropriately in combat trousers, a green military jumper and stout boots.
‘Do you have the details I requested?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I do...’ She opened the bag to find her purse.
‘Nobody can see us here,’ Moondog commented. ‘It’s a good job the owner of the pet shop doesn’t have security cameras...’
‘Good,’ she said absently, as she offered the note she’d made.
‘Jimmie waited for you opposite the pet shop. He probably realized you scarpered out the back, so he’ll scour the area. He’ll be curious to know where you got to. He’ll make his way up here quite soon. We don’t have long.’
‘Really?’ Hopie rubbed her knees and noticed her hands were covered in green mossy slime. Maybe it came from the fence? She held the paper note in her damp fingers and waited for him to grab them. He didn’t.
‘Do you want this?’ she said. Moondog hadn’t moved a muscle. He just gazed into her face as if she’d gone stupid. ‘I went to a lot of trouble to get it…’
‘What is it?’ Moondog asked.
She gave him an incisive stare: ‘You know — the note you wanted. The note you requested. It’s why we’ve met today. These are the details of the places where they sent the dog’s heads. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t read...’
‘Huh?’
‘I thought I made it clear on our first meeting. I don’t read. A note is no use to me.’
‘I, uh...’ she rubbed the back of her neck and resisted the urge to say: ‘What’s this all about then?’
Moondog rested against her arm, playfully. Then he licked along his top lip and smiled. That’s when she comprehended; he had been ribbing her. Suddenly she experienced the same wild palpitations in her heart that she had when she met him at the lonely tree. Her legs became ridiculously weak.
‘You’ll have to read it out to me, though...’ he said in a smooth, chocolatey voice. So, she read the notes she’d taken, and he concentrated on her words.
‘You’ll commit this to memory?’ she asked.
‘Already memorized,’ he told her. ‘This afternoon, I’ll start. I will go on the knock…’
‘Well, I, uh?’
‘Sorry about today, by the way...’ he added. ‘Sorry, we didn’t get a lunchtime snack together. I know you don’t have time now. You can’t blame Jimmie; it’s not altogether his fault. You’ll need to get yourself down the hill right now though... you can’t be late back in the office. Or that old Sergeant will ask difficult questions. See that corner?’ Moondog got so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. She looked along his strong arm. But he didn’t point, he just nodded to the far end of the field and flicked a wrist.
‘Yes,’ she murmured, feeling a bit giddy.
‘Get yourself down there, pronto. You’ll find a gate at the lowermost point. Go through it and there you’ll find a path. The path will take you to the parish church. Go through the churchyard, and you will arrive back at the main street. From there, you know the way to the copshop.’
‘Thanks — do you want to come?’
‘We can’t be seen together. I’ll go over the top of the hill then head back via Thornton Road.’
Hopie looked into his face, so he returned a grin. ‘Er, when do we, you know? When do we meet again, like?’
‘I’ll stay in touch...’ he said. ‘Can you get me some more information?’
‘Of course…’
‘Get me details of the attack on those lovers at Groby Pool?’
‘You think it’s related?’
‘Possibly.’
She knew it. She wanted to ask other stuff, but when she turned to speak, she found that Moondog had left. He’d skulked away like a furtive fox.
‘Great, thanks for saying goodbye…’ she said, under her breath, A kiss would’ve been nice.’ She started her long march down to the corner that he’d indicated. Once she reached the lower slope, she checked her watch. Ten minutes remained of her lunch break. She viewed the top of the hill. No sign of Moondog, as expected.
‘I’ll need a fresh pair of nylons...’ she told herself. Then, without good reason, she began to laugh. She got the giggles. She couldn’t stop chuckling on her way back to the nick. She happily bounced into the station. And when she arrived, with just one minute to spare, she had the broadest possible grin on her face.
*
Newton Lyndford
Later that afternoon Moondog arrived in the outlying district of Newton Lyndford, to visit the addresses Hopie had read-out on the hill. He located two lines of Victorian terraced cottages, they possibly dated from the mid-nineteenth century, each decorated with fancy brickwork and neat gardens. He was a little surprised to find that the first two addresses were adjacent. He stopped near the front wall of the first property to inspect the flanking roadway. These homes did not have driveways, but there was a wide road outside that allowed enough car-parking space. The road was almost empty, save for a worker’s truck parked, and this indicated to him that most householders were 9-5 workers. Moondog checked a length of bricks along a studded front wall of the first house and planned what to do. After that, he went to gaze at the kerb.
Moondog shook his head and went to the other house to examine their wall and kerb. He scratched his head, gave a pronounced sigh, then moved to the final house in the line of the terraces. This property, two doors down from the others, seemed at first glance to be entirely different from the others. It appeared lived in. It was an end-of-terrace cottage, so possibly a bit more valuable than the others, and had a va
riety of well-kept shrubs in the front garden, and a paved footpath, and sets of clean curtains at the windows. Moondog inspected the kerbside, as before, but seemed to be more content with this building. He smiled, nodded, then paced up the garden path to ring the doorbell.
Ding dong!
A woman dressed in a floral apron answered. Her hands were dusted with baking flour, and she wore slippers on bare feet. Moondog looked down and saw they slippers had pink pompoms. ‘Best of the day to you Missus,’ he said with a grin.
‘What is it?’
‘Got any odd jobs you need doing around the place, lady? I just finished a job in one of your neighbour’s houses, up the road, and I have time to spare. I’m only in the area today. I thought I’d pay a visit to offer my services...’
The lady was about to slam the door in his face when she noticed his bright blue eyes. They shone like dragonfly wings that had been trapped inside crystal jars. She delayed pulling the door closed just yet.
‘Like what?’ she asked. ‘What jobs do you mean?’
He gave a generous smile, ‘I could clear your winter garden, Missus. Or maybe clean the gutters? I could have a dekko at your little hedge?’
‘Oh yeah? And how much will that cost? I haven’t got cash in the house. I get my husband to sort out my finances.’
‘A couple of pounds is all I’m asking, Ma’am. I’ll settle for a sandwich and a coffee if that’s all you got. But if you have a couple of sovereigns to spare too, that’d be nice. It’s up to you. What do you say?’
‘Er? My garden thatch needs a rake, I suppose. ‘
‘Lovely. Mind if I go around the back? Only, I don’t want to muck up your lovely soft rug. ‘
The woman looked at her toes, and it seemed she felt foolish in her pink slippers. She also wished her legs were less hairy. Why did he have to call today, of all days? ‘Okay,’ she heard herself say, ‘I’ll let you come around my rear. But I’ll need a moment to get things opened. Things haven’t been unfastened for a while. Then you can get your tool out.’
‘Handsome,’ he replied. ‘No rush at all, cushty.’
Once around the back, Moondog examined her garden. He found it neat and well-groomed. Maybe the lawn required a quick rake, to cutback the thatch, but that was about it. He could take care of her bushes too, maybe clip them. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to be done. Eventually, Moondog heard a key in a lock and the back door opened with a crunch. After a few heavy pushes and a final big shove, the lady creaked the door open all the way.
‘You have a tight flap there, Missus,’ Moondog said. ‘Do you mind if I look? There are oil and grease in the shed, so I’ll pay a little attention to your opening, Ma’am… if you don’t mind. It looks as if she needs some loving care, so it does.’
‘Yes, it’s a bit stiff this morning,’ the lady admitted. Moondog looked at her pink slippers and noticed she had found time to pull thick tights up her legs. She dangled the set of keys in her fingers but didn’t care to come down the steps let him get any closer.
‘I’ll take them, lady,’ he said, coming-up to get them.
‘The big key is for the mortice, and the little one is for the padlock. We lock it twice, you know, because...’
‘Thieves my lady? Do you get a lot of thieving around here? Strangers taking possessions from your outhouse?’
‘Er, no, I guess not, not really. But things have been happening... Weird things…’
‘Is it travelers Ma’am? I hope you don’t mind me speaking my mind directly, Missus? But sometimes those sticky-fingered travelers are a problem, aren’t they?’
‘Er?’ The lady looked him up-and-down and fixed on his fabulous blue eyes. When he returned her scrutiny, she averted her gaze. ‘But aren’t you a traveler yourself?’ she looked at his limbs and admired his strong legs. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m rude but I kind of assumed that you were... ‘
‘Me, Ma’am? Yes, of course, I am. I’m a Romani boy, born and bred. My Mummy raised me to be God-fearing, and my Dad walloped me every day whether I needed a whack or not. And that’s the truth of it. That’s the Romani way. It’s smart on your part to recognise me as a traveler. But, you see, I was referring to the travelling Irish. If you don’t mind my boldness, I will offer that it’s them that got us our bad name...’
‘Oh right. I do not think we have many travelers around here, Irish or otherwise. But there have been weird happenings, nonetheless….’
‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, lady, but could I please grab those keys because I want to get to work. I don’t want you standing there cold in just your slippers and nylons —you are shivering. You should get back to the warm of the kitchen and let me continue the garden work.’
‘Of course...’ she said. She dangled the keys so he might take them.
‘Now close up, and I’ll get to work…’ he said. ‘When I’m done, I’ll give you another knock-up. And next time I will come around the back door. Will, that do?’
‘Yes, certainly.’
*
Soon it got too dark to work. So, Moondog had laboured for about another forty minutes, then he took the garden tools back to the shed and looked for oil and grease. Afterward, he went to the back door and gave the timber several hard blows.
The lady of the house arrived quickly and opened-up.
‘I’ll give her another squirt, milady...’ he said, showing her the grease gun and giving a cheeky wink. ‘I will oil it for you, so you can move her open without breaking bones.’
‘Thank you very much. I asked my husband to look at my rear entrance, but he doesn’t have time for chores.’
‘While I do that, my lady, might I ask you what day your dusty-man comes to take away bins? Only I found some rubbish in the garden that needs binning.’ Moondog continued to lubricate the hinges.
‘The dustbin-man comes Wednesday morning,’ she said. ‘Sometimes my husband forgets to put the bin out. He works hard, you see. Lots of overtime, working late. I don’t like to nag. You’ll find the bins at the side. I admit the recycling bin is quite full. It’s not been out for a fortnight.’
‘He’s a nine-to-five man, is he? Your husband, like?’ Moondog left the doorstep to seek the recycling container.
‘Yes, though these days he works a lot of overtime, evening and weekends too,’ she shouted. ‘He works at the Fulfilment Centre at Belvoir...’
Moondog went to the shed store, to return the oil, then locked up. Then he returned to her step, keys in his hand, and a glint in his eye: ‘I don’t know, Ma’am...’ He stepped back to admire his hand work, as oil seeped from each hinge.
She wondered what he was talking about for a moment, and then the penny dropped: ‘Oh, right. Don’t you? I thought everyone knew the Belvoir Fulfilment Centre. It’s the biggest employer in the County. It’s the base for all major internet deliveries in this area.’
‘So, your husband, he’s a superior rye, is he? He’s a high-up at this centre, is he? A manager? A big boss?’
‘Um, yes. I suppose he is. He’s heads up their operations.’
‘Sorry to interrupt you, Ma’am, but the door is done. You think you could close it a few times to prove it’s swinging free?’
‘Certainly.’
Moondog stepped away to allow the lady to swing the door back and forth. She closed it again then re-opened. It functioned smoothly.
‘That’s fine, thank you very much,’ she said with a wide smile.
‘You offered me a sandwich and coffee. Would you like to see the garden first? I raked it over then tidied the evergreens real nice. But I could do with a snack— if it’s no trouble. I’ll take it out here if you don’t want a fella like me loitering in your grand house.’
‘Nonsense,’ she scolded, ‘Of course you must come inside. You don’t mind eating in the kitchen, do you?’
‘No, that’s very fine Missus. Very fine, I’m sure.’
She beckoned Moondog inside, and he kicked his boots off by the step then went through th
e utility room and into an uncluttered and neatly designed kitchen that had a high wooden breakfast bar as a centerpiece. She had already placed a tray of sandwiches, made especially for him, on the work-surface and so she went over to an elegant coffee machine to fix a drink.
‘Do you mind if I wash my hands first, lady? I’ve worked on the land you see...’
She led him to the kitchen sink and waited nearby, close enough to take-in his workmanlike scent. Moondog reeked of lionhearted virility. She also took a moment to admire his perfectly rounded buttocks when he bent to rinse his hands. She handed him a fluffy towel and watched his thighs flex as he dried. ‘I selected these for you...’ she pointed to a tray. ‘There is ham, beef with mustard, cheese with pickle, and salmon with cucumber...’ she indicated that he ought to sit down on one of the stools. ‘Relax, and I’ll fix you a drink.’
‘You’ve done all this? For me? It’s a real treat, Ma’am. I just hope you don’t mind if I tell you this… Ma’am, I don’t eat meat. Though I’ll have the cheese sarnie...’
‘I had not thought. Sorry. I presumed that you all ate meat, that was a mistake. It was wrong of me to assume, sorry. Do you want me to make another cheese round?’
‘No, this is perfect, Missus. Can I ask another favour? ‘
‘Yes, what is it?’ She swayed on her feet and wrinkled her forehead.
‘I mentioned coffee before, but do you have green tea? Only I’m mighty thirsty and oh how would I love a green tea right this minute. A first-rate one, of course.’
‘Really?’ she pressed her palms against her cheeks. ‘I've never met a man who drinks green tea. I’m amazed. My husband prefers coffee. Or beer. Wowee, we are similar, I drink green tea all the time…’
‘I’m sure we’re not similar Missus — but it’s very kind of you to say so.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I’ll take tea with a little drop of honey if that’s acceptable?’
‘Sure, it is.’
Moondog bit into his cheese sandwich while she made the green tea. She brought the cup over, once brewed, and casually moved her pedestal-stool closer to his. She grabbed a spoon from the centre of the work surface and bent over his elbow to slowly stir his drink, with her arm draped close to his rib cage. He ignored the obvious attention she gave him and continued to munch on his sandwich.